


Thanksgiving

by DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor



Series: The Adventures of Achilles and Patroclus [3]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Ableist Language, Fluff, M/M, Patroclus' father is an asshole, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor/pseuds/DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor





	Thanksgiving

Patroclus’ hands were shaking; Achilles gently grabbed his boyfriend’s hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.   
Patroclus nodded, “It’s just one night and then we get to have Thanksgiving with your parents tomorrow. A real Thanksgiving dinner.” Patroclus managed as big of a smile as he could but it faltered. He was only doing this because Peleus had told him that his father was a very lonely man and it would mean something (as little of a something) to him that Patroclus came.   
Patroclus steadied himself and rang the doorbell, the door opened and his father appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in a neat black suit and his face was severe. “I assume you’re here for dinner, not to just gawk.” He said roughly.   
“Good evening.” Achilles’ fingers interlaced with his. “I believe you’ve met Achilles.” As much as he hated to admit it, he relished in the small flicker of fear that flashed across his father’s face when Achilles shook his hand.   
“Lovely to see you again, sir.” Achilles said in a cool but formal voice.  
“You too.”   
Without a word, the trio entered the house, the front door shut behind them. They followed Patroclus’ father into the study. They sat across from his father who was studying them. “So, lovely home you have here.”  
“Thank you.” He stood up and walked to the bar, Patroclus involuntarily shivered when he saw his father pour himself a glass of bourbon. “It’s a very old house. Passed down in this family for generations. Father to son. Patroclus is the last of his name, ruining a legacy that has lasted centuries.” His father took a long sip from his glass.  
“We want to adopt.” Achilles chimed in.   
“Oh, I’m sure from you the child will be strong and athletic. From what Patroclus has told me, you played sports a lot in high school.”  
Achilles nodded, “Football. I had a scholarship and then I tore my ACL. I was devastated.”   
Patroclus remembered when Achilles was told the news that he wouldn’t be able to play football as he so dreamed. Patroclus hadn’t even seen Achilles cry until that day. Peleus, while disappointed, told Achilles that this was not the end of the world. He could try out for the team next year, and he knew Achilles would make it. He was right. “He’s on the team right now.” Patroclus added.  
“I know that, I watch television.”   
“Well, I didn’t know.”   
His father snorted and went back to the bar. Patroclus squeezed Achilles’ hand. Luckily, one of the cooks entered and announced that dinner was ready. Forty minutes later, they were still eating and Patroclus’ father was drunk. Patroclus was staring at his plate, trying not to listen.   
“...biggest disappointment in my life. He wasn’t athletic, or brave. He cried whenever I killed a spider. All he would do was read books, he never acted like a man. I tried, I did try. It didn’t work. He turned out to be a fairy. God, I must’ve been cursed or something. I can’t believe I’m raising a fucking kindergarten teacher. How fucking stupid is that?”  
“Dad, that’s enough.” Patroclus said.  
“Can you imagine how ashamed I am? Not only is my son gay but he’s a kindergarten teacher.” His father shook his head, “What astounds me is how you managed to bag him.” He pointed to Achilles who looked calm and cut a piece of turkey off. Patroclus recognized that expression; he was counting to ten in his head. He had a knuckle white grip on his cutlery. “Someone that attractive getting with some fat loser with acne scars. Tell me, Achilles, you can tell me. Is it because you felt sorry for him? I understand that, that’s why I married his mother in the first place. No one else would marry that fat, retarded cow. Like mother like son, I guess!” He shouted. Patroclus threw his silverware down and stood up knocking his chair backwards. “Are you going to cry? Big fucking surprise.” Patroclus ran out of the room. “Poor pathetic Patroclus—“  
“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Achilles roared standing up, with quick strides he pulled Patroclus’ father out of his chair and pinned him against the wall. “You will not say another word against him, me or his mother. Got it?” Achilles growled. “You made Patroclus cry, which is a big mistake. What’s even worse was you did it in front of me, and I don’t take that shit.” He swung and punched Patroclus’ father square in the jaw. “We’re not coming back. I don’t care if it’s Christmas, your birthday or your funeral. We are not coming back. You are a disgusting pathetic excuse for a father and a man. If you say one more thing about Patroclus I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.” Achilles turned and walked out of the dining room.  
He found Patroclus sitting on the front steps, sobbing. “Hey, Patty-cakes, it’s okay. We’re leaving.” He put his arm around his boyfriend who stood up.  
Patroclus wrapped his arms around Achilles and buried his face into his shirt. “I’m s-sorry.” He wailed.  
“Don’t be.” He smoothed the dark curls and lifted Patroclus’ chin. “I love you.” He gently wiped away the tears away from Patroclus’ brown eyes. “Let’s go home.”

Later that night, after Peleus sent up ice cream to their room, Achilles and Patroclus undressed. “I love you, you know that, right?” Achilles asked shutting the closet door.  
“I do. I love you too, Achilles.” He smiled at his boyfriend.  
“Let’s get to bed, we’ve got Thanksgiving tomorrow.” Achilles led Patroclus to their bed. Achilles slid underneath the covers, Patroclus followed. Achilles wrapped his arm around his boyfriend and kissed the top of his head.   
Patroclus smiled as he relaxed into the warm of Achilles’ chest, he was home.


End file.
